Right now I am home for the first weekend in a very long time, so I am cleaning up and clearing out. It seems I do this all the time and yet there is no change in the amount of objects floating around my apartment, overused or underused. We've all experienced this (see: George Carlin) but I have a particular problem that I think some of my comrades might understand.
I have, in my studio apartment, at least a few hundred books that I have not read. I bought or borrowed them all in moments of good intention. These are books that I want to read; books that should be read. They look good. Here is a random sample of books I have here but have not read.

The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle, Krik? Krack!, Song of Solomon, The Savage Detectives

Historical accounts of the Dust Bowl, the colonization of Africa, generations of Chinese women, pop music, Lewis and Clark, US Prisons, and Wilderness and the American Mind

You don't even want to know about the poetry.

And you REALLY don't want to know how many works by and about Mark Twain I bought in the throes of new-nerd-job ecstasy and haven't felt like hunkering down and reading after 40 hours of talking about Sam per week.

Workbooks to learn Spanish, Chinese, and how to use my Nikon D50.

The magazines! Oh, the magazines. Damn you, Granta; damn you, American Scholar; damn you, Georgia Review. I love and hate you for coming without warning.

I am pathetic. I essentially have an entire library in here and I continue to acquire more books. There's a heavy emphasis of late nineteenth century (European and American) and essays (almost all of which I've read, thank goodness) but otherwise: I have a lot to learn that I have already committed myself to studying. This apartment is a record of everything I want to know but have no time to study. If someone would only donate food to me for a year, I think I could conceivably quit my jobs, read about a book a day, and catch up with my intentions. Any takers?

Anyway, just as soon as I finish Inkheart, The Little Friend, I Know This Much is True, The Quiet American, One Ring Circus, and the style issue of the New Yorker, I guess I'll start with Genghis and work forwards in time.

How do you people with more than one room even keep a head on your shoulders?

- Julia

P.S. The movies from China and the Netflix queue will be year two. Couch buddies welcome.